Finding Her Alexander
by braidonfire
Summary: "You will meet an Alexander, and he will be very important to you. At some future date, he may even save your life." Follows 3x04. Is it really the Alexander we all think?
1. Chapter 1

"Oh, before I forget – what did Penny say about Alexander?"

"Oh, nothing, just some silly stuff that didn't really make any sense."

He looks deflated. For a moment, her heart tightens until she sees the pass of the brief emotion on his face and she asks: "Why?"

He looks up, his eyes a little wider than they had been before. "Because my middle name is Alexander."

She feels her emotions do a flip. "I thought your middle name was Edgar?"

"Hm, been perusing the personal sections of the Richard Castle website again, have we?" She can tell he's enjoying this. She rolls her eyes. "No, I changed my middle name to Edgar, for Edgar Allen Poe, back when I changed my last name to Castle. My given name is Richard Alexander Rogers."

She tries to keep everything off of her face, so she tilts her head in an impressed gesture.

"What a coincidence, huh?"

He smiles at her and walks away – just as her heart melts.

She shakes her head. She doesn't believe in all this psychic business. None of it's logical. No one can hear spirits or speak beyond the grave. It's impossible and it's naïve.

But this is ridiculous.

No way is Castle's middle name really Alexander. Because if it's true, if he isn't just playing with her, she doesn't know what to think. Penny told her that the Freemasons had murdered her mother. While it hadn't been exactly right, it had led them to the killer eventually. Now they have her behind bars. All because of Penny.

It's all because of Penny.

And it's mind boggling to her. She doesn't understand it. She can't comprehend how something she's always thought was so futile may actually exist – psychic communication.

She closes her eyes, frustrated, and walks back to her desk to finish her paperwork. She's annoyed. And her mind is twisting.

Okay. So she'll admit it. She was in love with him – _was_. At the beginning of the summer, she'd loved him. But not now. No, she's moved on over their separation and now she doesn't think like she had. She's free now, and while he's still her best friend, any thoughts of hi that are more than platonic are far in the depths of her mind.

She turns in her seat and watches as he steps into the elevator, his face pensive. She wants to know what he's thinking about, what's on his mind. She hasn't told him what Penny really said – that this 'Alexander' that she would meet would supposedly save her life. He doesn't know that part, as far as she's concerned, but he's concentrating hard on something and she wishes she knew what.

She glances down at the white and black sheets underneath her and groans. They're longer than usual because of the double homicide they'd uncovered. Picking up her pen, she sets to work.

It's late – around seven – by the time she's finished. She grabs her coat and her bag and walks up to the steel doors of the elevator.

She presses a button and waits, fiddling with her phone impatiently. It's been such a long couple of days, and this case has had her mind spinning and searching for answers so much that all she wants to do is take a nice, long bath.

She feels it buzz in her hand, indicating that she has a new message. She looks down, knowing who it will be because he has his own personalized vibration sequence.

_Dinner with me and Alexis tonight? She hasn't seen you in a while._

She tries to suppress her smile but fails. She loves it when he asks her over, although she'll never admit it. She knows he's with Gina, but they're friends. She's been to his loft plenty of times.

_Sure,_ she types, _but you haven't already eaten?_

The elevator chimes as she hits the send button. Two minutes later, she feels the phone move again.

_She's been at the mall all afternoon, so nope. See you in a half hour?_

She grins as the NYPD-stamped box descends down the shaft.

_Yep._

He'll get a kick out of that English, she thinks. Getting into her car, she remembers his address effortlessly.

Then she remembers the doorman.

She wonders absentmindedly if she's on the entry list. She knows it's a high-security building, and she's been there before with a bit of flirt work, but maybe Castle's actually remembered to add her name this time.

"Ah, Detective Beckett. Evening. You remember the floor?"

She smiles. Apparently he has. "Yes, thank you."

Another elevator ride. He lives on the top floors of the structure, so she leans back against the wall and waits again.

Then it chimes, and she steps out.

She feels her fist hit the door three times, but her mind is elsewhere. She stares around the hallway, marvelling in the grand attire of the walls and floors. She's never been anywhere like this – not even in crime scenes.

She almost hits the person who opens the door – and they both laugh as Castle pulls her through the opening.

"Detective Beckett!" She hears a light, happy voice ring out from the kitchen, and she finds herself suddenly hugging a young, lively redhead. Smiling, they sit down at the table.

Alexis turns to her father, banishing him to the kitchen. Kate laughs.

"Fine," he pouts. Then he turns to the detective – who's sitting in _his_ chair, he notices – and whines, "See what you've already done to her?"

A flirtatious smirk and a laugh force him into the kitchen to continue making the rest of their dinner as Kate and Alexis move to the couch to talk. Stories about cases, memories and embarrassing moments with none other than a certain writer pass between them, giggles floating through the air.

It's only a few minutes later that dinner is on the table – and since Martha isn't home and Alexis seems to be extremely interested in hearing more tales of the precinct, even over food the conversation doesn't cease.

Castle's pouting and Alexis is smiling, and Kate's never felt more at home. She knows she doesn't belong here, and she knows that maybe she never really will. But the atmosphere here is so welcoming and warm, and it makes her feel like everything is great in the world. It makes her daily lifestyle of fighting crime and catching criminals fly out the window.

And somewhere in the back of her mind, she's wishing she could be here for real.

For real as in _belonging_ for real. To be a part of this every day. To come home to this and see this place every morning and every night of her life. She knows she's going back to the way she used to think, opening that thick metal door in the back of her mind that barricaded all feelings for Castle and shoved them away. She _feels_ it again, that dizzying, head-spinning feeling that she recognizes oh-so-well. Every time his blue eyes meet her emerald ones, her heart flips and her cheeks heat up.

If she's being honest with herself, it terrifies her.

Because he's with someone else – someone richer, someone prettier (from her perspective), someone with a better and more stable career. She doesn't have a chance anymore and she knows that.

It doesn't make it hurt any less.

Pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind, she jumps into the conversation with yet another story to highlight the silliness of Castle's early shadowing days.

"Oh come on," he laughs. "You saw that guy! If he says get out of the car, you _get out of the car_."

"You do realize there's a lock on that door, right?"

The conversation goes silent as Alexis smacks her hand against her forehead and Castle purses his lips.

"I'll admit it. I didn't think of that."

The laughter returns full-force as Alexis flicks a pea at her father and applauds. He uses his spoon as a shield and flicks it right back.

_He's a good father_, she thinks. She's always found it hard to believe that he could possibly have raised someone like Alexis all on his own, what with his likeness to a nine year old and his tendency for innuendos and inappropriateness. But now, seeing the dynamic between he and his young daughter, she sees it. She sees that he really is responsible, and smart.

She smiles knowing this. It's sweet.

When she hears the door click, her first thought is that it's Martha. So she doesn't stand or collect her things, as she's sure she'll get as much of a welcome from the actress as she did from the teenager.

But it's not the voice of the dramatic woman that she hears behind her moments later.

"Rick?"

Alexis' laughter stops abruptly, as does hers. Castle chuckles as he turns towards the source of the high-pitched, wind-chime voice – and then his face goes serious as well.

_Crap_.

"Gina!" he exclaims, standing and walking over to her. He gives her a quick kiss on the lips, clearly being careful not to linger for more than necessary. Awkwardness quickly descends on the room as Alexis purses her lips and looks down at the table, and Kate looks everywhere but behind her.

"Rick, who's this?" She's clearly miffed about it. Kate cringes.

Castle clears his throat. "Oh, uh, Gina, this is Detective Kate Beckett. She's the cop I've been shadowing for _Nikki Heat_."

Hearing him refer to her as 'the cop' makes something inside of her want to punch a wall. She knows they're past that stage of formality. He knows they are too.

So the jealous feeling that quickly sets over her confuses yet angers her.

She stands then, quickly grabbing her bag and moving to the door. Castle excuses himself and she feels him behind her.

"I'm sorry," he whispers as she steps into her heels. "She was supposed to be at a meeting tonight."

She shakes her head, biting her lip. "It's fine, Castle. She's your girlfriend. She's allowed to show up whenever she wants."

He sighs. "I just – "

It's her turn to sigh. "Don't. I…I should go. See you tomorrow?"

He opens the door for her, making her realize for the first time their close proximity.

"See you tomorrow, Kate."

* * *

><p><em>I know this seems, right at this moment, like it's a 'Let's-all-hate-Gina' fic, but it's not. Far from it, actually. It doesn't seem like much right now, but it will make sense in the long run. <em>

_As for updates, I promise nothing. If you follow some of my other stories, you've probably figured out by now that I am absolutely horrible at keeping with deadlines. So, be patient with me, and the more reviews I get the more I'll be inspired to write this. *wink*_


	2. Chapter 2

_Hey look, an update. For those of you who don't know me, this may seem normal. But for those faithful readers who have followed me through this FF journey, you know that this is sort of a monumental moment because I'm pretty sure, if my mental timeline is correct, this came in under two weeks. _

_I'll post a better A/N at the end when some of you may want to shoot me if you guess what's coming next. But read on, and don't forget to review!_

* * *

><p>Kate sighs as the door closes.<p>

She whirls around and lets her head rest on the wall next to the door. Her eyes close and her breathing comes in long, frustrated draws.

She hadn't expected that.

Gina. Lanie, on numerous occasions, has referred to the woman as a "stone-cold bitch monkey". Kate's always said that it's not fair, that she only has to be that way for her job. But the fact that the two _have_ met before, and that clearly the blonde woman has no recollection of this, just downright pisses her off.

_Where does she get the right_, she thinks. _She can just waltz in there and be all cute with him._

She has to remind herself that he is not hers. She has to tell herself that yes, Gina _can_ be cute with him and yes she _can_ waltz in of her own accord. No, she doesn't need to knock like Kate does. No, she doesn't have to look away when Castle looks into her eyes. Yes, she can kiss him anytime she wants to.

No, Kate cannot do any of this.

And as it all repeats in her mind, sadness takes over. She hates it. It torments her. Part of her wants to just tell him how she feels about him – tomorrow at the precinct, or even now, at his own home.

Then there's the rational part.

That's the part she hates. It's the one that tells her that yes, he can hurt her and yes, he can leave her. It's the section of her mind that tells her that the risk is way too huge.

So with another deep breath, as is routine, the rational part wins over. Every time, nothing ever differs. She straightens her coat, stands up tall and walks away, praying that the click of her heels can't be heard through the door.

* * *

><p><em>Damn<em> it.

Stupid timing. Stupid fate. Stupid everything keeping them apart.

Stupid him, for giving Gina a key the week before.

Stupid dinner, for taking too long to prepare.

Stupid mall trip, for keeping dinner waiting.

Stupid _life_, for screwing up.

Every time. Every single time he tries to connect with her, every time he tries to _be there_, something gets in the way. Something or some_one_.

And it irks him more and more every time.

A prime example, he thinks, is Demming. That guy had come in at just the wrong time. He had disrupted everything and ruined every plan Castle had made in his head.

Stupid Demming.

Stupid Sorenson.

Stupid everything.

"Rick?"

Gina's silvery voice rings out through the halls, a certain suggesstive tone lacing it. He sighs – inaudibly, as he doesn't want his head cut off – and walks out from the foyer, his fake smile and mask set in place so he can hide from the world.

* * *

><p>"Yo, Beckett. We got a body."<p>

Kate listens as Esposito rambles off some address in the Bronx, and picks up her bag and coat as if on auto-pilot. She tries not to look at the silent, empty space at the side of her desk.

He's gone. At least, as far as she knows. He never arrived in the morning. It's just been…silent.

And she hates it.

Lord knows what he's probably doing. _Gina_'s probably kept him in all morning – it's not like he has anywhere he has to _be_, of course. Kate scowls.

Her feet are slow and her mind is even slower. Opening the floodgates that she had last night had been a bad idea altogether. She feels the aftershock running through her body, accompanied by the feeling of painful, lukewarm dread. Her heart feels like shattering, and her mind feels like it's spinning all because he isn't beside her.

When did she get this dependant?

She shakes her head clear. _Snap out of this_, she tells herself. Pinching her palm, she turns to Esposito.

"Hey Espo, I have some paperwork to finish, and I'm feeling a little out of it. I'll do the interrogations when they come, but can you take this for now?" She doesn't know why she's asking. She just doesn't feel like seeing the world and any of its bright, murderous glory right now.

The other detective looks her up and down, then nods. He seems to understand that she just can't do this today. "Sure thing," he says quietly. Then louder, "Ryan, let's go."

Making a mental note to pick him up a coffee later, she kicks her bag under her desk and settles back into the plush of her chair. Sighing, she runs a hand through her hair and puts her head down.

She's an idiot.

Every. Damn. Time. Last summer, for example. She'd been so ready, so hopeful…and then, boom. _Gina_. And again, last night. So happy to be there, finally admitting to herself what she'd been pushing away for so long – and then like a whirling tornado of Burberry and Coach, in had come the publisher, ruining everything as she usually does.

So she's an idiot.

She's an idiot for believing that something might work out. She's an idiot for thinking that he still felt anything for her that even bordered on more than platonic.

But most of all, she's an idiot for doing this in the first place.

God, she needs a suspect. She needs one _badly_. She just needs someone to yell at and scare and take her anger out on. She needs her mind to be kicked into gear again. She needs to do this _herself_, and she needs to do it _soon_. Caffeine can only keep her going for so long.

She doesn't know how long she sits there, absentmindedly toying with the chain around her neck. The precinct is almost empty, but she doesn't care. She just stays put, like a dull-minded patient in some sort of hospital, until she hears the elevator doors chime open.

Swivelling around in her chair, she looks up just in time to see Ryan guiding a handcuffed, protestant man through the halls and into one of the questioning rooms. Sending a thank you prayer to whatever religion was listening, she stands and rushes to her partners' sides.

"Story?" she calls out.

"When we searched the apartment, we heard a noise in one of the rooms. Kicked the door down and he ran."

"So basically, we might as well tag him with a guilty sticker and send him on his way."

"Pretty much."

She nods. "Name?"

"He identified as Alexander Roberts. Gave that one up right away; probably fake. And he's adamant about being innocent, so I'd tread lightly."

She flashes him a smile. "Thanks, guys."

Clicking her heels extra-loudly, she pushes through the door and slams her file down on the table. "Mr. Roberts. I'm certain you've been informed of your rights."

Her words come out on autopilot, but the first thing she really notices is that this man is _gorgeous_. His jaw is chiselled, stubble dusting it almost unnoticeably, and his _eyes_. Oh God, his eyes, she thinks. They're green with flecks of blue and brown, and they remind her of beaches and forests and everything beautiful. His brown hair is adorably – God, what is _wrong_ with her? – tousled, as if he's run his hands through it more than once.

He just nods. "Your partners told me everything I need to know."

Kate shakes her head clear. "So then, when we arrest you on the grounds of homicide, you'll know we're being fair."

His eyes widen considerably, taking in her seriousness for the first time. "Homicide? No way. I haven't killed anyone."

He's the first suspect she's questioned in a long time that has even close to proper grammar, she thinks. She sighs.

"That's what we get from everyone, Mr. Roberts. Now please, tell me why you ran from detectives Esposito ad Ryan."

He chuckles humourlessly. "Seriously? You try being in the same apartment as a dead body, with no cell phone reception and a banged down door. It's enough to make your feet move of their own accord."

She cocks an eyebrow. "So your feet grew their own brainstems and ran without your _permission_."

He flashes a smile – and it makes chills go down Kate's spine. He's _insanely_ handsome.

"No. I'm saying that it was _instinct_, Detective. I ran because I felt like I had to. It wasn't smart, but it felt safe."

Kate purses her lips and considers him. Then she settles down and opens the file. Skimming it quickly, she murmurs, "Where were you between…seven and ten last night?"

He answers easily. "I was with my band, practicing. I play guitar. You can check that."

Oh, hell, she thinks. Guitar.

"And how did you know the victim?"

He scoffs. "Josie? She was my ex. We broke up a while ago, but with my busy schedule and everything, I never got to give her my key back or get the stuff I left at her place. So I went over today to get it, and _bam_. She's dead on the floor."

Kate nods. Some crazy part of her totally believes him. "I think we're through here, Mr. Roberts."

"Alexander."

She gives him a glare she usually reserves for her missing partner. "_Alexander_. I'll just need the contact information of your band members – _all_ of them – so I can verify your alibi."

"Am I no longer a suspect?"

"Detective Ryan will take you down to holding until I get your whereabouts sorted. Other than that, the rest of your story seems to check out."

He stands, extending his hand to shake hers. She stares at it for a short moment before raising her eyebrows and walking out of the room.

* * *

><p><em>If it seems out of character for Kate to get giddy over a suspect, or for her to rebound so quickly, then it probably is. Suck it up. Too bad. It's just how I rolled with this.<em>

_If you can figure out where this is going, here's a virtual cookie. I know Deanna (_**youkillmypatience**_) wanted to shoot me when I told her the synopsis for this, but that's okay. By the way, check out her stuff._

_Now that I have my internet back after a long four days without it, I'll be posting another oneshot I came up with a while back but only just now had the motivation to write. Turns out, without Tumblr as a distraction, a girl can get shit done._

_Anyways. The review button's right there, so, you know..._


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